


There's No Rain Inside My Heart

by monchy



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monchy/pseuds/monchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Screams of agony and desperate moans fill the air, and Anakin wishes he could make it all go away with a swish of his lightsaber.</p><p>Companion piece to It Was a Rainy Day, And...</p><p>Can be red as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Rain Inside My Heart

These men, all wrinkled and gray-haired, once participated in a battle or two, back when weapons weren't so sophisticated and everything was a lot bloodier, but also a lot more honest. Or at least, that's what they say. The truth is Anakin stopped listening about an hour ago, focusing his attention in bandaging arms and legs rather than in hearing old men who are seeing a war for the first time in too many years. Obi-Wan would reprimand him for his behavior, he's sure, but he doesn't care much a t this point.   
  
When Quinlan had asked for reinforcements and Anakin had gotten stuck in a spaceship with Obi-Wan and Windu, he had at least expected a few exciting battles. All there is to see, though, is pain and misery. Screams of agony and desperate moans fill the air, and Anakin wishes he could make it all go away with a swish of his lightsaber. As it is, they're stuck taking care of way too many hurt people, being more healers than warriors.   
  
Obi-Wan's good at it, Anakin has noticed. He, on the other hand, is already tired of bandages and blood, and has almost passed out more than once. For all the dead bodies he has seen in his life, he still isn't quite used to this particular part of the war. He's comfortable fighting and saving lives, not getting to see if he can rescue the collateral damage from a sure death.   
  
He sighs and sticks his boot in the mud, looking up the gray sky. It rains a lot, and it does so every day. It's almost fitting, Anakin thinks, but he wishes it would stop. Next to him, another man starts telling yet another story, and Anakin does his best at smiling.   
  
In the distance, Obi-Wan waves at him, and Anakin waves back.   
  
*  
  
"Fuck, I'm so fucking tired," Anakin announces, and hey, it's true. They're not getting much sleep, certainly not as much as it's necessary to function properly, and Anakin's starting to be sorer than he's been in years. It really kind of sucks, having in mind the kind of work they're doing.   
  
Next to him, Obi-Wan chuckles. He's coming out of the shower, partially dressed and with his hair still wet, and Anakin squints his eyes to examine the play of muscles in his back. Obi-Wan's too tense for his own good.   
  
"And can't you say just that without the cursing, Anakin? Makes me wonder what I taught you."   
  
Anakin chuckles, lying down on a small coat as Obi-Wan does his best at drying his hair. They don't get many showers either, and right now Obi-Wan looks more than pleased.   
  
"There really is nothing you can do about it, but it's not your fault either," says Anakin, still watching Obi-Wan. Force but he's so tense Anakin wants to smooth his skin with his own fingers. After a while, he says, "I was always a free spirit, can't blame you if I swear."   
  
Obi-Wan looks at him and smiles, bending over to grab his clothes. "Get some sleep, will you?" He pats Anakin's still booted foot, and then pulls his robe on. "I'll see you later."   
"Don't you need some rest? You're all... tense."   
  
Obi-Wan shrugs, combing then his hand through his reddish locks and putting them in some sort of order. "I can rest later."   
  
"Just don't exert yourself, ok?"   
  
*  
  
Two days later and Anakin is still tired. His neck hurts like hell and he's so restless he's starting to worry for his own health. Then again, everyone seems to be suffering from the same kind of feelings, and so he chooses not to complain, and just keeps working.  
  
Not two steps away, Windu is looking up at the sky, frowning. It's raining again, and as much as they've done to cover the most hurt people, there are still many who can do nothing but get wet and hope that doesn't kill them. Anakin makes a point of staying outside, as if feeling the rain of the skin could help to remove the lethargy that traps his limbs. He's just so bored, and he needs to do something to feel comfortable in his own skin.   
  
*  
  
When he takes off his boots, he glares at them, as if they had offended him by being covered in mud. After they’re off his feet, he shakes his shoulders and rolls them back, feeling the muscles stretch painfully, and then he moves his neck to both sides until he hears the bones crack. He throws both boots to the floor and sighs, feeling slightly defeated.   
  
“You’ll break your neck if you keep doing that.” Obi-Wan is lying on a small cot, and Anakin had counted on him being asleep. Instead, he’s, as always, ready to jump out of bed at any disturbing sound.   
  
Anakin smiles softly at him from his spot on the floor, and throws his head back. “’M just tired,” he replies.   
  
“Then get some sleep,” says Obi-Wan, sitting up and shrugging a little. His hair is everywhere, his eyes sleepy and his naked chest looks sweaty, muscles strained, but he still has a smile to offer Anakin. “I need to get up, anyway.”   
  
And there it is, Obi-Wan’s constant self-sacrificing character. They don’t have nearly enough cots, and of course Obi-Wan is more than ready to give up his own rest for others. If Anakin didn’t love him so much for it, he would probably be annoyed. Any case, he stands up swiftly, ignoring his complaining knees, and pushes Obi-Wan back on the cot with a hand against his chest. Unconsciously, he lets it linger.   
  
“How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last week? Five?” he wonders aloud, shaking his head when Obi-Wan sends a small glare his way along with a raised eyebrow. “We can share, just don’t hog the blankets.”   
  
Obi-Wan snorts, amused. “Right, because I’m the one who does that.”   
  
Anakin chuckles, taking off a few dirty clothes before sitting down on the cot, causing it to creak awkwardly. “I’d be offended if I wasn’t so sleepy.”   
  
Obi-Wan laughs a little next to him, but soon enough, they’re both asleep.   
  
*  
  
Next time Anakin opens his eyes, he can hear the rain outside, crashing against the tents and the ground, loud and obnoxious. It shakes all the sleep out of him at once, the prospect of the day slapping him hard on the face. He thinks of the pain and the blood, the screams and the misery, and suddenly all he wants to do is stay in this absurdly uncomfortable cot and in between Obi-Wan’s arms for another, say, _month._  
  
He blinks unhappily, and Obi-Wan looks up at him from where Anakin has crashed him against the bed. He’s half on top of Obi-Wan, but hey, he’s always been a cuddler, and this is certainly not the first time Obi-Wan ends up being his personal human pillow; he’s way more comfortable than the cot, that’s for sure. He smiles sheepishly, almost unaware of the huge span of his skin touching Obi-Wan’s, and then lets his head fall back on his former Master’s chest. He can still hear the rain outside, bringing him back to reality, but if he concentrates hard enough, all he can feel is the warmth of Obi-Wan’s skin, and the strong beating of his heart against his chest.   
  
Later on, he’ll ask himself why he does it, and still won’t be able to answer himself. All he knows is that he does. He brushes his nose against Obi-Wan’s chest, thin hair tickling his lips, and without a second thought presses a kiss to Obi-Wan’s pectoral, almost grazing his nipple. Obi-Wan breaths hard under him, and Anakin looks up, feeling suddenly fascinated by too familiar grayish eyes. They stare into each other’s eyes, time stretching and rain forgotten. For a moment, it’s just the two of them, no war and no pain, no people to take care of and no wounds to heal.   
  
Obi-Wan’s the one to pull him down, and Anakin doesn’t even have the time to be surprised. He’s just suddenly pressed up against soft lips, messy beard tickling his nose. He breathes out, hard, and closes his eyes without a second thought, not realizing the way his tense muscles relax under the hands Obi-Wan puts to his shoulders. He shifts, drops all his weight on top of Obi-Wan, and then he’s just kissing, hungry and desperate in a way he never has felt before.   
  
He trembles slightly, thinking how this should be _weird,_ and it is not.   
  
There’s not much thinking going on after that, merely the sudden realization that he’s kissing Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi, all around respected Jedi, his Master and his friend. It’s… exhilarating, and after the first taste, Anakin can’t get enough. He just touches and kisses, hungry for Obi-Wan’s lips and tongue.   
  
They’re only separated by the thin fabric of two pairs of pants, and Anakin grounds down, growling, feeling the tension drown with the simple caress of Obi-Wan’s calloused hands all around. They don’t give themselves time for anything other than rutting and grunting, legs and arms tangled and lips forever glued.   
  
Outside, the rain falls still.   
  
*  
  
It goes on and on for weeks. Everything around them is the same, grim and pain, but now there are stolen moments every possible second, heated kisses exchanged in hidden corners and hungry sex in a too small cot, too. One look from Obi-Wan, far away in the other side of a field filled with agony and Anakin is burning, his skin reacting to a single glance in a way it had never done before.   
  
Love and sex has always been about meeting a person, that fateful _let’s get to know each other_ that is fundamental for everything. The thing is, though, that Obi-Wan and Anakin have had years to know everything there is to know about each other, so Anakin doesn’t need to ask how Obi-Wan likes his coffee or if he’s feeling tired. He just _knows_ , that and more, because Obi-Wan and him had been able to talk without words for way too long already.   
  
So now? Now it’s about skin and sweat, and the way Obi-Wan moans when Anakin bites his earlobe or when he noses the crispy hair around his cock. It’s about the way Anakin trembles just thinking about how Obi-Wan’s hands, roughened by wars and wounds, feel while touching him. It’s about _them_ , and it’s so good that they can forget all that happens around them with a single look in each other’s direction.   
  
*  
  
“So, how long have you been doing Obi-Wan?”   
  
Anakin has to squint his eyes against the sun to look at Quinlan, feeling slightly annoyed that he’s getting disturbed in the only sunny day they’ve gotten this far. He’d been daydreaming about picnics in the sun and swimming naked in the sea and making love to Obi-Wan in the sand, and it had been such a good fantasy. He sighs, blinking up at Quinlan’s bright smile.   
  
“That obvious?” he asks, and perhaps he should have thought about denying it, but there’s no real point in doing such a thing with Quinlan.   
  
Quinlan laughs, open and wide in that way he has, as if they weren’t in the middle of war, or as if they had just won. “You have no idea, kiddo. Even if it wasn’t, Mace walked in on you a couple of weeks back.”   
  
“What!?” Anakin sits up at that, cheeks feeling suddenly way too hot. “Oh. My. God.”   
  
Quinlan laughs again, his eyes glinting mischievously and his wild locks shining light brown in the sun. “Nothing he hasn’t seen before, so don’t worry, love.” He shrugs, eyes crinkling. “Anyway, Macey and I are blowing off some steam ourselves, so…”   
  
“Eeeew! Way too much information, buddy.”   
  
When Quinlan laughs again, all Anakin can do is smile back.   
  
*  
  
Anakin still isn’t very sure off what they’re doing, and as he thinks of what Quinlan said – _blowing off some steam_ – he can’t help but think that that’s not it, that’s not it at all. But he hates thinking about it, because it’s easy and so familiar now that he just takes it in the same fashion he has taken any other development in his relationship with Obi-Wan. They went from strangers to partners to friends way too easily, and he doesn’t think this should be any different.   
  
It’s raining today again, and Anakin is still tired, all his energy drenched in this pointless battle that they’re not even fighting. Still, he’s inside now, his chest to Obi-Wan’s back and his breathing even and slow, closer to sleep than to wakefulness, and it feels as if the world has stopped around them and all that exists is skin, hot breath and this tent around them. He blinks, sleepy and tired, and presses a kiss to Obi-Wan’s nape.   
  
“I love you,” he murmurs, and it’s true, it’s always been true, even if the meaning has changed slowly with the years.   
  
Obi-Wan turns around inside his arms until they’re chest to chest, eyes half open. “Yes, me too. Now go to sleep.”   
  
Anakin chuckles, the vibration moving through his body and to Obi-Wan’s which he clutches tighter in between his arms.   
  
Outside, there’s rain and anger and hurt, but inside, there’s nothing more than them. And there will be wars to come and to fight, but as long as they have this, they will always be strong enough to fight them.


End file.
